an fáinne Cladach
by delia Lawson
Summary: The Claddagh Ring: Brennan becomes swept up in nightly installments of a historical romance novel that Angela talks her into reading. Through the course of her Dreams she meets a man who looks just like her partner, and teaches her a thing or two.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or any of the related charters and such. They are the property of Fox and Hart Hanson. I do not own _Mine Till Midnight_ or and of the related characters. This is property of Lisa Kleypas, the most brilliant historical romance author alive. Yes even better than Julia Quinn… for those of you who dabble in that type of thing. I will turn no profit nor seek any ownership of the afore mentioned items, this is just for my amusement and because I have read one to many of these at the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One: Twilight Irises

The day had been longer than Dr. Temperance Brennan anticipated. She should have seen it coming from the way her eyes were just a little to reluctant to face the world today, or in the little mishaps that seemed to follow her all the way out her front door and into her zippy little Toyota. She was a woman of resilience though, and not easily swayed by spilling a little coffee on her brand new designer skirt. In fact in her opinion if the worst thing she left the office with was coffee on her, she was doing rather well for herself.

Of course that was before she was knee deep in remains, sifting through them to find a skull that never seemed to appear. She was hot and sweaty inside her plastic suit, tendrils of sweat soaked brown hair clung to her face, adding to her discomfort. No, this was certainly not what she had in mind when she left the house this morning, running just a few minutes behind schedule but mostly happy.

It had felt like eons before she could walk through the door of her apartment, in desperate need of a shower, yet trying to think of something to sate her hunger first. It was quite the paradox. The shower won out, needed to rid herself of all the grime and grossness she felt covered in. It would do her no good to relax when she still felt tainted by the death and destruction.

The relaxation was slow though, not coming when she wanted it to, making her restless and antsy. That was the reason she picked up the book Angela had lent her. She needed to clear her head, and none of her usual tricks or past times seemed to be working.

Rational and pragmatic Brennan had never enjoyed the idea of reading a romance novel. The very aspect of it seemed so far fetched that she had never really enjoyed it. But tonight, admits the chaos of her life, she needed a little whimsy to lighten her mood and loosen her shoulders. She was, as Angela had said, going to let her hair down.

********* ******

Brennan looked around the marble covered hallway, wondering briefly where she was. There was a brilliant waltz in the background, setting the scenery of the moment, throwing her off ever so slightly. He fingers were encased in white satin elbow length gloves and matched the lace trim of her floor length lavender ball gown. She tried to take a deep breath, hoping to clear her head only to feel her air supply constricted in the tight boning of her corset. The stays of which were constricting her waistline, yet pressing her breast up to the high low cut collar of her creamy neckline.

Feeling slightly dizzied she looked around for a mirror, wanting to see herself, to understand how she had gone from comfortable pajamas to this elegant Victorian style dress in the blink of an eye.

"My lady, what are you doin' in here away from the party? Come now miss, you mustn't wander so." A curly haired house maid came up to her, reaching out to touch her arm in an unwelcome attempt to coral her out of the marble hallway, which was beginning to smell more like freshly roasted meats of some sort. The dizziness only seemed to intensify as she struggled, trying to wake herself, yet continuing along her pathway.

"Where am I?" She asked, not even bothering to remove the woman's light grasp from her, to stunned for her normal reactions to set in.

"Oy, Miss, How much have ye had to drink this evening? Come on, let's take ye back to the party." In a stunned silence Brennan relented, fascinated by her new world. The way her posture seemed so astute, the stays forcing her back to stay ramrod straight. She even delighted in the swishing of her skirts as she made her way towards the music. Then she stopped, her already shallow breath leaving her as she approached the grand ballroom. Couples waltzed with all the grace she had read about in the eighteen hundreds, the bright candle light flooding the room as they moved. Every single woman was dressed similar to her, their long curls pinned up, and their neck lines low and flooded with cleavage.

Men wore black tuxedos with pristine white cravats. They stood off together, some glancing curiously at the women opposite them, others engaged in lively conversations or off courting ladies by the large double doors that lead to the moon lit balcony.

Brennan knew she was dreaming, that was the only way to explain what she was seeing. Still, the anthropologist in her found the behavior fascinating. As she stood, she made observations, cataloged things that she had only ever read about. Even if it was all in her sub conscious, that did not make it less fascinating. She made her way through the crowd of people, listening to snippets of conversations and laughing at the modern marvels these people were astounded at. It seemed unfair that she knew what would come of everything they though impossible. If only they knew the true miracles that science would afford them.

Turning to her left she saw a couple and recognized them. Not because she knew them but because she had read about them, visualized them in her mind. They were Amelia and Cam, the main characters of the romantic adventure her mind was taking at the moment. They were speaking in a hushed tone, looking towards the balcony. No doubt trying to sully the doings of Amelia's younger sister Beatrix. It seemed so surreal, watching this play out right before her eyes, and yet still just as interesting.

She turned her attention to the balcony, knowing that Beatrix would be set to enter the scene any moment. Instead she felt as though a ton of brick sat on her chest, crushing her windpipe and stopping her voice in her throat. There he stood, looking directly at her. Not a character in the novel, but her brilliant partner. Special Agent Seeley Booth, only tonight he was not dressed for duty.

Tonight he was sleek in a pressed tux and sparking white cravat. His hair was longer, almost gracing his shoulders and he had the most intense golden eyes she had ever seen. This man was not her partner, yet he was completely identical. Her heart raced, the way it always did when he entered a room, yet she did not feel the warmth he usually bestowed on her. This man was her partner's doppelganger, leaving her with a sense of unease and the need to stay away.

Yet, despite her need to shy from him she remained firmly rooted to the floor, her body tense, her mind racing a mile a minute. He was walking straight towards her, his swagger just a little more masculine, his completion just a little paler than usual. He gave a sinister aura that left her breathless and yet excited her, drawing her to him against her will.

It took him only seconds to reach her, yet it felt like hours. His breath was sweet against her face as he leaned in to speak, firelight dancing off the black irises. She wanted him, more than normal, wanted to touch him, to feel his body in her hands. This was not her usual yearning, this went deeper, all the way to her core. The fact that she was dreaming did not lessen the effects on her, it only made them more intense, made her more receptive to the man before her. He was not the man she loved and trusted, but he looked at her with such hunger that it did not matter.

"You look lost, luv." He spoke with such an eloquent Irish accent, as if he were used to using the old language. Though she was not able to speak a word of it, she would bet that his Gaelic was perfect. His voice was like liquid honey, surrounding her, taking her in, making her trust him.

"No, I am just fine." She tried to turn away, tried to break the enchanting spell he had her under. She couldn't.

"Aye, an American, I haven't had one is such a long time, I do grow tired of the blue blooded aristocracy. You must be a might bit impressive, love, to gain such a sought after invitation from the ton." She was mesmerized, not actually processing what he was saying, so much as just listening to languid sounds that fell from his rakish lips.

" I'm sorry, I think you have mistaken me for someone else." The words left her mouth, but never processed through her brain. It was difficult for her, being stripped of her wits. They were the shield behind which she hid, they were the only thing that would keep her safe from the dazzling stranger before her.

"And who might I think you are, dear?" He was so calm, so suave. It was as if his very existence took no effort from him.

"A guest of the house." She responded blindly, hoping against all of her logic that she made some sort of sense.

"And yer not?" His lip curled lightly, tugging his mouth into an amused half smile.

"No, I am not sure how I go here. My Name is Dr. Temperance Brennan and I am a forensic Anthropologist. I suspect that I have fallen asleep and that any moment this dream will cease to exist." She said placing her hand on his chest, trying to stop him from closing the few inches of space she managed to maintain.

"I'm not sure what all of that means, luv, but I would like to find out." He was leering at her now. The closer he came the more he seemed to cloud her mind. She forgot, for just a second that she did not belong here in this world with this man. He leaned in, the brilliant gold of his eyes turning as his features contorted. There were deep creased ridged across his forehead, setting off every alarm in her body. Her fight or flight kicked in, yet she could not flea. Not even when she felt the sharp enamel of his teeth pierce the delicate flesh of her skin. Instead of pain she only felt intense pleasure rush her body, flooding her mind and she jolted.

With a sharp intake of breath, Brennan came to, her body jolting up from it's resting place on her couch, the small paper back flying off her t-shirt clad chest. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, her breathing was frantic as if there were not enough air to fill her aching lungs.

She reached the thin fingers of her bare hand up to her smooth neck. There were no pucker marks where his teeth should have pierced her skin. Instead she only felt the flow of her slowing pulse. Still enclosed in the darkness she waited, listening, wishing that she were not so erratic with fear. There would be no more sleep for her tonight, not at the risk of meeting evil stare of that man. He had the face of her partner, but was devoid of all his gentleness. That man was evil in solid form, and yet part of her lusted for it.


End file.
